


never caught a fever like you

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, I'm Sorry, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Poor Theon, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Pre-Canon, Sexual Tension, Spoilers for Book 5 - A Dance with Dragons, Tumblr Prompt, also for speculation re jon you've been warned tho you probably know what I'm talking about, wherein they just really like riling each other up and then it gets sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where they kiss in Winterfell and then on the Wall in circumstances which might not seem that similar at first glance. But maybe they aren't that different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never caught a fever like you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_blonde_mermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_blonde_mermaid/gifts).



> written for a writing meme on tumblr - the prompt was Jon/Theon, angry kiss and/or sad kiss, and obviously I figured why not both IT'S TOTALLY DOABLE. Uhm, yeah, Theon would have probably preferred if I stopped at the first part. The title is from the Horrible Crowes and nothing belongs to me except the speculation.

“You know, there’s no need to sulk  _that_  bad, Snow.”

“How about you  _leave_?”

“Too bad, there’s just one yard and you aren’t the only one who’s not welcome.”

Jon groans - of course there’s some northern lords who lost sons during the Greyjoy rebellion visiting, and of course Robb has to be there but  _he_  isn’t sitting with everyone else as usual and Theon being there wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Well, you can stay here and not comment, how about that?”

“You’d think one would get adjusted to it.”

“Why, are  _you_?”

Theon shrugs. “As if it was any news before,” he mutters to himself, and then turns back to Jon smiling that damned smug grin that Jon would  _really_  like to wipe off his face. “Cheer up, tomorrow they’ll be gone. Hey, you could eat outside every day if you lived anywhere else, that should be a reason to lose that sulk. For one.”

“Can’t you just shut up, seven hells?” He has a headache coming. He doesn’t  _need_  to have Theon rile him up while he’s already not in a good mood. Which admittedly is whenever this kind of thing happens.

“Nah, you’re hilarious. I think I’m not. Unless you  _make_  me, of course, and in that case you’re more than welcome to try, but -”

Jon is  _done_ , all right? He stands up, grabs Theon’s shoulders, drags him to his feet and walks until they are at the stables, and then he proceeds to slam him up against a wall and - and how do you  _shut someone up, damn it_  - he doesn’t even think and just slams his mouth against Theon’s, tries not to think about how Theon was  _not_  who he had imagined would be the first person he ever kissed, and he gets ready for a punch to the face but - Theon actually lets him do it. He doesn’t even fight him back or anything, even if he returns the kiss with more than enough enthusiasm, and when Jon finally leans back, he’s tasting blood on his tongue and he tries not to be mortified when he realizes that it actually comes from  _his_  own upper lip. Theon must have bitten him at some point. He’s pretty sure they both used teeth. He can’t exactly remember.

“Well, that wasn’t half bad. See that when you apply yourself you can do something other than bloody sulking?”

And then the bastard moves away from the wall,  _waves_  at him and leaves, heading back for the yard.

Jon heads for the servants’ cemetery instead and stays there until he’s sure that Theon vacated the premises - as if he needs to see his face even more after  _this_.

He just hopes no one saw them, and he vows to himself to never let Theon get to him like that _again_.

–

He looks at Theon now and he remembers that once he thought he would just avoid letting the idiot get to him.

Yes. It had more or less worked. But now he might be getting to Jon anyway, and for entirely different reasons.

He’s also been feeling mildly nauseous since he found out who was the  _Reek_  that Ramsay Snow wanted back, for that matter, and whenever he actually manages to exchange a few words with Theon he always gets some variation of  _yes m'lord_  for an answer and his mild nausea becomes full-on nausea. And considering that since forty people stabbed him to death but that didn’t stop him from coming back to life he hasn’t felt much of anything, at the beginning it was almost welcome.

Now he doesn’t know if he’d have rather kept on not feeling much of anything.

He walks out in the yard to find Theon sitting on a half-burned tree trunk, a half-empty bowl of the shitty soup that was served for dinner in between his gloved hands, and for a moment he thinks  _how the tables have turned_ , but then he doesn’t say anything because he knows it would feel like kicking an old dog that can barely walk and he doesn’t relish feeling like that, either.

Instead, he sits down, though not next to Theon.

“You should eat that,” he says. “If anything because when your sister comes back from her round she’ll want to have  _my_  head if you’re as bad off as she left you.”

“It’s harder than it looks. My lord.”

Jon doesn’t even know why he still tries. “I’m not anyone’s lord.”

“I beg to differ, but as it please you.”

“You know  _you_  out of everyone don’t have to please me?”

Theon puts the bowl away on the ground - it snowed, so he won’t be able to eat it at all after this - and turns back to look at him again. At least the eyes are always the same, even if the stare is completely different.

“It seems to me like it’s what  _everyone_  around here should do.”

 _Yes, because I died and came back to life and I don’t know what to do with it_.

“And I’d appreciate someone actually not doing that for a change.”

“I’m afraid you should make me,” Theon replies, almost under his breath, his voice shaking, and -

Ah, seven hells, why did he have to say  _that_  out of everything? And considering how hard his shoulders are shaking, Jon is plenty sure that he realized what he’s just implied as well.

“I don’t like making anyone do anything,” Jon sighs, shuffling closer. “And I meant it when I said I don’t have any reason to want you dead before. "You know, sometimes I think about how it was before and in retrospective, you weren’t half as annoying as I thought.”

“And you weren’t sulking half as much as I said,” Theon sighs, not looking at him, but Jon could scream in joy just hearing that.

 _At least_.

“Well, better that you realized it late than never.”

“But you still were sulking when you came into the yard.”

And the thing is that he can’t even deny it. Damn, this is all wrong. Robb should be here, for one, and neither of them should -

“I guess I can’t deny that,” Jon admits, and then Theon looks at him again, and damn but Jon can’t read it because it’s all  _wrong_ , too.

“Then I suppose some things never change. At least that.”

As if it’s the only thing that didn’t. Which might as well be true.

Jon honestly has no idea of what possesses him to move forward and press his lips to the corner of Theon’s mouth - his lips are completely cracked and the now dark stubble he’s growing out itches a lot more than it used to, and he doesn’t linger long, also because it’s all _wrong_  all over again and it’s not like he asked for permission.

When he moves back, Theon’s looking at him as if he has no bloody clue of what’s possessing him right now either.

“At least something else, too. Next time let’s just drop the  _my lord_ s, shall we?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before going back inside. He should vow to himself to just stop getting involved, but he already knows that it’s useless. He already is.

 

End.


End file.
